Nevermore alone
by RavenSalander
Summary: Since his defeat against the Guardians, Pitch Black becomes prisoner of his own lair, until the fear of a spirit named Samhain helps him regains enought power to come out and use her naivety to prepare his revenge again the Guardians of Childhood. But everything may not go as he had planned, after all...


Prologue

 _Salem, Fall 1692_

Salem was a small city stricken by fear and sin, lost somewhere in Massachusetts, in the United States. The citizens feared the plague almost as much as they feared their own shadows due to the puritan paranoia that was present, but above everything else, they feared witches.

Pitch Black would have never guessed that his influence towards humans would push them to act this way, burning alive or hanging some innocent young girls that were accused of witchcraft. Maybe he had surestimated thir limits, after all.

Because the much talked about witches of Salem were nothing else but poor misunderstood women, whose luck had left them. A while after the accusations, they had been publicly humiliated, forced to walk naked and tied up on the public place, before they were dressed again, and then taken to the pyre.

Pitch Black had been watching without a movement. He had no reason to interfere, and even if he wanted, no one would see him.

Since the Guardians had made they appearance, even though still recent, mortals became blind to the sight of the boogeyman. Fortunately, he could still whisper horrible fears in their ears. Fear that, morever, would inconveniently cause the death of innocent girls.

But Pitch didn't care about it at all.

The lives of humans beings were ephemeral and dull. In a few seconds, hundreds died and hundreds were born.

It wasn't his fault if those women were going to die, after all. Yes, well, maybe overdid it on the dose of general paranoia of the village, but nothing more. In the end, he did have fun. Those women were nothing more than the victims of human cruauty. If only they knew that their little witches were the least of their problems, that invisible demons were hiding under their beds, that when they would take notice of their mistake, their regrets would stay marked on their pathetic village forever.

The first woman stepped on the pyre, and Pitch, who was in the first row, heard her praying to the gods to be spared. He slowly shook his head.

He then witnessed her flesh slowly burning under the fierce flames and he heard her suffering screams resonate all across Salem. He noticed some children were present in front of the scene. Some were crying, some were silently watching. They didn't even notice his presence.

Fine by him, since for once Pitch didn't not wish to be the center of attraction.

More than a dozen of women kept climbing on the stage where Death was waiting for them. One by one, they prayed and screamed against the injustice, begging the public to spare them, but not one acted, not even their own family members. They all witnessed the death of their wives, daughters and mothers.

And the Guardians were insisting on how Pitch was heartless, how ironic. He pertinently knew that they were aware of the ugliness of the human soul, but they kept ignoring the errors of the parents and hoping for a better next generation by helping children to believe in their dreams and hopes.

Disgusting.

The last accused, a certain Samantha Williams, finally went up the stage, straight and proud, before the rope being installed around her neck. While the priest was chanting the formal prayer, the woman's face stayed like stone.

She was not afraid to die, noticed Pitch right away. Her eyes stared at the crowd with hate and disgust, until her gaze met the Nightmare King's. He saw her raise her eyebrows. It was odd. Rare were the adults still able to see him. Pitch kept staring right in the eyes. Azure met gold.

It was a tiny, worried hand that shyly entered his grip that made him look away. A lassie, of not more than seven or eight years old, with long red hair, was silently weeping at the sight of the girl called Samantha about to be hung. Asking for the comfort of a total stranger didn't seem to bother her, but he let her anyway. The anxiety she was emitting made him sigh in ecstasy. There wasn't anything more delightful than the fear of a child. Her small, frail hand tightned her grip when the priest requested the executioner to open the trapdoor below Samantha's feet.

Then, the woman fell, and her body convulsed for a few seconds before it stopped moving. Dead.

Pitch saw tears silently falling down the child's tears, before she started sobbing uncontrollably.

Pitch watched the villagers go back quietly in their homes, their minds more or less at peace, in the shadows. The clouds had made place for the sun right after the execution of the witches, unfortunately for the boogeyman. He had never liked the contact of the sunlight on his skin, and which is why people sometimes would mock him by calling him a vampire.

He suddenly felt a familiar presence approaching him, and, how surprised was he when he saw the red haired lassie that held his hand earlier at the execution.

Surprisingly, he felt absolutely no fear coming from her. Her blue eyes were still moist from her sadness, but not even a hint of fright.

How peculiar.

''I... she started, slightly intimidated by his presence. ''Thank you''.

Pitch raised an eyebrow.

''And why do I deserve this 'thank you'?''

''The last women who got hanged was my sister, she explained. I just wanted to thank you for holding my hand back then. I... I had no one else but her, and your presence kinda comforted me''.

The amber look of the king of nightmares went dark all of sudden. Him, Pitch Black, had comforted a little girl? Impossible. Either she had absolutely no notion of danger, either she's was just stupid.

Pitch Black did not comfort children, he _frightned_ them. ''Do you even know who you're talking to, kid?''

She flinched, but didn't back away when her eyes met those irides, of a color comparable to a solar eclipse. On the opposite, she proudly faced his gaze.

''You are not human'', she said.

He patiently waited for her to explain what she meant.

''I felt it when I touched your hand. The heat you emit is different from a normal human. Your skin is not freezing either, so you cannot be a ghost, but you are not a mortal either. I guess you are a spirit then''.

''How do you know all of this?''

''My... sister and I can feel those things. It's a family thing''.

She kept quiet for a moment, and timidly looked down at her feet.

''Who are you?'' she finally asked.

''I go by many names'', he simply said. ''I am the one who will give you nightmares, the night. I am the shadow you must not provocate, the one who whispers and breeds fear. I am the darkness, the pit that attracts mortal in their deepest madness.''

That's when the little girl realized:

''You are the boogeyman.''

Pitch smiled. A smile that would've made any sane person run away, but once again, the girl stayed still. Instead, she smiled back at him.

''I should have known, she said with a nervous laughter. Your dark aura and your strange eyes...''

She added:

''My name is Kanedie Williams. Nice to meet you, boogeyman.''


End file.
